Where Cross The Crowded Ways

Where Cross The Crowded Ways Of Life,
Where Sound The Cries Of Race And Clan,
Above The Noise Of Selfish Strife,
We Hear Your Voice Of Life Again.

In Haunts Of Wretchedness And Need,
On Shadowed Thresholds, Dark With Fears,
From Paths Where Hide The Lures Of Greed,
We Catch The Vision Of Your Tears.

The Cup Of Water Given For You
Still Holds The Freshness Of Your Grace;
Yet Long These Multitudes To View
The Strong Compassion Of Your Face.

O Master, From The Mountainside
Make Haste To Heal These Hearts Of Pain;
Among These Restless Throngs Abide,
And Tread The City’s Streets Again,

Till All The World Shall Learn Your Love
And Follow Where Your Feet Have Trod,
Till Glorious From Your Heaven Above
Shall Come The City Of Our God.